


tide me over love and life

by un_versed



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, I Tried, Introspective Heavy, M/M, Slice of Life, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-01 12:23:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10921749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/un_versed/pseuds/un_versed
Summary: For some people, love comes slow. For others, it comes fast. For Vanitas, it's always been there.





	tide me over love and life

 

He counts the seconds in his head before making the turn and adjusting his arms to move in alternating strokes.

He pictures the outlines of the watch scoring each kick he pulls. It nags him, pesters him. And wanly, almost as though it was accidental, he thinks of the water swallowing him whole, of stilling his arms and drowning until he's drunk in its shades of black and blue and—

**"1:11.49"**

Vanitas gasps, taking in a lungful of air in his rise to the surface. He picks out the color blue primarily, brighter than the water he'd just swam in, and he wonders if maybe he had drowned because there's too much blue for him to be seeing land. But then the blue blinks, and finally he notices the shades of yellow, green, and gray, and he's brought back to their school's indoor pool with a boy carefully staring at him like an odd piece of exhibit.

Vanitas narrows his eyes, pushing back the dark strands that clung wetly to his face. "What was that?" he asks again. Ventus offers him the watch to see.

"Your time," he starts dryly; Vanitas' grip on the deck involuntarily tightens. "It's 1:11.49 seconds. You won't be able to qualify for the 100m free at this rate."

"Don't you think I know that?" he bites back bitterly.

They stare each other down spitefully, angrily, and Vanitas grits his teeth in bemusement. He turns away from the glare and places a foot readily against the wall, meeting the deep blue with a challenge. He focuses on the water and the thought of adjusting his speed. Fifty meters, he decides, never looked as far as it did then. It unnerves him. Nonetheless, he brings down his goggles and stretches his arms.

"I'm doing another lap."

"Don't," Ventus chips hurriedly. "We've got less than half an hour before first period."

"You can leave first."

"You're the one who asked me to keep the keys and time you. We're leaving, Vanitas." 

The swimmer groans then and deflates. He tosses his head back and watches Ventus' upturned expression tilt to the side. It's curious, but challenging, and also a little bit breathtaking when he sees his reflection mirror in its deep blues.

Vanitas hears his name again, so he cups a handful of water to pitch as retaliation and pull himself back to reality. Ventus complains weakly as Vanitas pushes himself out of the pool. He doesn't remember taking out the towel from his bag or pacing to the locker room, but he reaches the showers in short steps feeling utterly drained.

The water runs down his body lazily, and he holds out his hands in front of him noticing the pruning on his skin. He does it to compel himself not to think, and it works, just until he moves to turn the taps off. Because then his thoughts amble to _something._ And it's this something which every person ardently obsesses over that he finds himself thinking it's more trouble than its worth. That, for all its appeal, such happiness over… passionate emotions is nothing but a form of fantasy. He knows that but— 

But what's he supposed to do…?

Vanitas shudders from leaving himself exposed to the cold for too long. He rushes to put his clothes on, disposing his swimwear haphazardly into his locker. He'll come back for it later, he thinks.

When he leaves, he finds Ventus sitting on the risers, staring keenly at the pool. It's not the first time he catches him doing so, but he still finds it queer. He never comments because, if it's anything important, he reasons he would have caught ear of it by now. People like him, young and in high school, are never quiet, and it's his only advantage in figuring Ventus out in a different perspective.

He takes his leave through the double doors, and only when autumn's brisk winds touch him did his companion take notice and follow.

"You could've said something," Ventus mutters in complaint. Vanitas rethinks of his retort and chooses not to answer instead.

They leave together, figures distant enough to let rushing students pass hurriedly between them. It's how their session often ends. Without the solace of the pool, it feels as if they're walking alone.

\--

"You can't do that," he says, more than a bit horrified at the suggestion.

Ariel doesn't move though, her pretty sea-blue eyes set steadily on him. Her hair, loosened from working with her team around the deck, matches the small gestures her hands would make when answering her student, a salience of her grace.

"You're not giving me a choice, Vanitas," she tells him softly, and Vanitas thinks it's unfair of her to still sound as lovely as she did when laying him off. "We only have three weeks before the meet, and you're just getting worse."

 _"Worse?"_ The rest of the team had stopped what they were doing by then to observe the budding tumult. Vanitas doesn't mind when he's a little closer to hysterics. "And you're saying the duck can do better?"

Ariel bites her lips and sighs in exasperation, shooting an apologetic smile over to Donald, who looks more than a little miffed at the comment. When she turns to Vanitas, her smile drops into something more serious and, maybe if he cared to notice, even sad. He doesn't want to think about it though. 

"You're missing the point, Vanitas," she starts gently, almost motherly, and she takes a step forward laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. "If I let you race, you'll only end up disappointing yourself."

Vanitas cringes involuntarily. That's, admittedly, a stark blow to his pride. He takes a step back, letting her hand, so much smaller than his, fall back to her side. He doesn't explain himself to Ariel knowing that what she said will still be true. So instead, he smiles, more cruel than he'd meant it to be, and takes his leave.

Everyone starts moving again, bustling like faceless characters in a stage that had been waiting for their queue. Vanitas imagines himself bowing theatrically in spite, knowing that the crowd will once again be quiet. He almost stops in consideration when a boyish voice calls him repeatedly, sopping footsteps following his own. And he thinks, he really doesn't want to do this right now, but Sora's there, catching him by the elbow as soon as the doors to the locker room shut.

"What?" he asks deadpanned.

"Ven and the captain's talking to coach about," he waves his arms sketchily to the doors and blurts out quickly, "all that." And Vanitas looks at him unimpressed, taking his arm from the boy and turning away. 

"It's fine. I don't really care," he comments, slinging his bag over the benches to take what he needed to leave the room. The boy stubbornly jogs into his view, and Vanitas asks Fortune to spare him the pity. Because, for all that he is, he doesn't need it — want it. Not when she favors his calamities over his prosperities.

But Fortune never listens, Vanitas concludes, never immediately nor always fittingly, and Sora is insistent when he says, "If you really don’t care, then why do you look—" he hesitates, face twisting into something of distaste as though he's seeing something blatantly unpleasant, "like _that_."

Vanitas wonders — worries — about what Sora sees because all he could feel is the nagging ambiguity of what to do. Of the sudden _emptiness_ he felt creeping through the lines and borders of his already cluttered mind. Maybe Sora knows this, sees this. And the thought doesn't sit well with him, so he drops his head from his cousin's prying eyes and zips his bag.

He retorts, or at least he starts to when Lido cuts in through the doors with their manager in tow. The distant look in Ventus' eyes is back, and Vanitas almost speaks in curiosity.

"We got you back in the meet, bud!" He catches himself though.

"Are you serious?"

"Well, to be honest," Lido slings an arm around Ventus, "Ven got you back. Coach was being really stubborn, but this guy promised her a few things and…" he trails off sheepishly.

"What do I have to do?"

"Just get better before the week of the meet," the captain answers. 'Like how you used to be' is left unsaid because everyone already gets that, and it's the first time Vanitas recognized the expectations they have of him, demand from him, really; it's a bit overwhelming to think about.

"And don't forget to say thank you," Lido teasingly adds, pushing Ventus forward. He's back to normal, Vanitas notes when he reluctantly nods in acknowledgement; he wonders if he just imagined that weird look Ventus was making. He quickly forgets about it when Ventus shrugs casually in response saying that's part of his job, or something like that. Sora's protest about their surly exchange is distracting, even when he tries to ignore it. 

"Give it up, Sora," Lido cuts him short, partly joking — partly serious. "That's probably the most you'll get out of these two." And both juniors happily agree.

Although eventually, it ends up bothering Vanitas. A voice awfully irritating and persistently loud nags him in the back of his head. So begrudgingly, (and timidly, Sora insists, _teases_ later on) he asks for the brunet's phone and posts a short text message to Ventus saying,

 _Thanks._ — _V_   

It shouldn't have been hard sending the message, but it takes a few minutes of adding and deleting texts before Vanitas was willing to hit 'send.' And between the time he searches for Ventus' name in Sora's contact list and the time it takes for him to actually deliver the message, he adds the word 'idiot' just to make it sound like his regular self, or at least that's what he likes to argue.

When Sora comes to his room later with a reply, he rolls his eyes because he already expected Ventus to call him a bastard—

_(but you're still welcome)_

He feels better though, and he sleeps with a lightness that gently cradles him, beds him with a warmness the soft sheets can't compare. It's not something he's familiar with, but he thinks it's still pretty amazing.

\--

\--

 _It was a Saturday_ , and Vanitas remembers this because it's the only day he could have spent twelve hours away from Sora and his aunt without the involvement of school (because Sunday's never really an option to go out for long periods of time, but whatever). His phone died a little past three in the afternoon, but he didn't really care so much until a shadow fell over him and he couldn't feel the sun anymore.

Opening his eyes then was a grand challenge; he felt lethargic. More than that, his entire body ached with muscles humming sorely from fatigue, not to mention he genuinely thought he was going to pass out for some time now. He didn’t complain in spite of this because Ventus held a cold bottle of water to his head, and it felt kind of nice. Really nice. 

"Have you been here the whole day?"                                                                          

"Hmm?" Vanitas actually had to stop and think about the question. "Mostly. I'm trying to get a tan so I'd look more like Sora. Then we could fuck with people and tell them we're brothers and — _ow!_ What the hell are you doing, you idiot?"    

Vanitas was awake now (haggard but wholly awake nonetheless), swatting at the fingers that played over his somewhat burnt skin, and okay, fine. He got it. No matter how hard he tried, he won't be able to get a tan. He was _joking_ for god's sake.

"And I was being serious," Ventus retaliated, but he could hear the smile in his voice. "The island is more of Sora's thing, so it's pretty surprising to find you here."

"I could say the same to you," he answered dully. 

They lapsed into silence, unsurprising between two boys who bordered on the shores of enmity and familiarity. It blended with the tender chords of peace and discomfort that played about them — the quiet so peculiar yet inviting; Vanitas eased into a strange calm. He studied the sea that tickled the soles of his feet carefully, its waves crashing fleetingly as though taking with it a part of the world. Ventus joined his sprawled figure after a short while, his toes digging deeply into the sand with his hips pressed warmly against Vanitas' side and—

"It's beautiful."

—he wasn't supposed to like it. Not really.

"I've seen better sunsets," Vanitas scrutinized arguably.

Ventus glanced briefly at his companion, curious and pensive. "It's not always about what's better," he started similarly. His hand moved atop Vanitas' head to his neck; the cool sensation of the water bottle — light and mellow in its caress — soothing amber eyes close. And, almost immediately, Vanitas gasped, lips parting in slight panic when he felt pressure over his eyes, the dark made darker, sudden and startling. His hand shot up from their idle place at his side to grab hold of those thin, familiar wrists. He pulled at them, albeit weakly, and hissed,

"Take them _the hell_ off—"

"You know," the boy interjected lowly; Vanitas' teeth snapped shut. "It wouldn't hurt anyone if you trust me for once." His tone was careful, almost wary and benign, and _so extremely_ _close_ Vanitas felt each sigh of his breath ghost over his skin lazily, tenderly, so preciously soft, he stopped breathing. Just for a moment.

"You're not really giving me a reason to trust you," he clipped, not daring to sound above a whisper. He was met by humming, full and warm and buzzing across his reddened flesh. It felt awfully childish, how their slight banter and dogged refusals to be in concord affected him.

"Don't think about anything, or at least try not to."

He puffed a small sardonic breath, but humored him nonetheless. (He doesn't admit he liked the idea of clearing his head; not to someone he's not meant to be close to.) And he found it so easy to fall into a state of absence with dusk bringing brisk winds and drowse clinging to the borders of consciousness. Every touch, sound, and scent was a little more accented, but he didn't mind. It made him feel alive.   

Ventus slipped his hands away from his eyes.

The sun was gone, but there was light, bright and abstract against the dimming sky painted softly with colors of blues, orange and purples. A dye of tepid saffron coated the sky and dampened the glowing shades and shadows of daytime. And Vanitas blinked. Once. Twice. Because over the fading flush of daylight was a bright yellow and big blue eyes.

And it felt almost like waking up from a pleasant dream. Everything was more than a bit surreal, felt _(looked)_ so much clearer: the body that pressed warmly against his side, the tang of the ocean, coconut trees, and boyish sweat that layered thinly on summer's breath. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing really came to mind. 

"So, what do you think?"

He tried again and said, "What am I suppose to think?"

Ventus looked almost sad, but Vanitas was being honest. He pulled away heavily with a breathy: "You're hopeless," and watched the sunset.

Vanitas draws himself forward with his elbows, a dull ache humming with the pull. He ignores it though in favor of squinting slightly where the horizon met the sea, like warm colors mixing with the ocean. His stomach felt odd, and he noticed how dry his throat was. But, he continued to stare at the sky, waiting for the sun to hide from the horizon. This must be the only time it gets to touch the deep-sea; the vibrant showcase of multi-color blends and warm reflections were a wonder.     

When there was more darkness than there was light, Vanitas finally turned to Ventus.

"What are you even doing here?"

"Looking for you?" Ventus sounded uncertain. "Sora's worried you know."

Vanitas almost laughed. He should have guessed. Half of the town must be looking for him right now, or at least keeping an eye out. Sora likes keeping people close. It's suffocating sometimes. Like now, when he wants to lay down a little bit longer and maybe write his name in the sand.

"What time is it?"

Ventus looked at his phone. "It's almost 6. Want to grab something to eat?"

"If you're paying." He wasn't going to turn down free food. He doesn't give Ventus the time to answer. He pulled himself up, muscles screaming in protest, and gingerly took a step forward when his knees gave in. He couldn't stand up. That's new. He laughed, almost a bit feverishly, but Ventus kept him steady with arms supporting half his weight, so he kept his voice in check.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Vanitas probably didn't know he was smiling a little proudly. "Rode with _Baker_ to get here."

It felt really good too because the solid three hours he spent kicking and riding his board on the mainland's concrete placated the gnawing creeks on his legs and his arms. The heat and constant rapid beating of his heart eased him into a rhythm, a high that was clean and natural. It was addicting, in a good way.

"You're crazy," Ventus resigned but he shifted his hold on Vanitas.

And Vanitas let him.

Ventus held him until the canoe where he immediately started rowing them back to the main island (complaining all the way, but he wasn't forcing Vanitas to move so he didn't.) His burnt skin felt irritated, but less so than before, and the salty waters felt great on his fingertips. The back he was leaning on didn't feel so bad either.

It was in that peaceful moment that Vanitas realized he was kind of falling for Ventus. It wasn't as sudden and surprising as Disney's princess movies make it out to be, no fireworks or magical fingers and wands. It felt almost normal, like feeling good after watching a pretty sunset. Or rowing a boat to get back home, preferably before dinnertime. It was there, and it has always been there. He suddenly got the urge to say it out loud.

\--

\--

But it's different on the mainland. Not the matter of his feelings — time only nurtured it, and with time, he accepted that he's probably in love with Ventus.

 _(And he keeps it enclosed around his heart, warm, safe, and_ alive _.)_

But, when viewed in its entirety, the way he sees that love is estranged from the calm, almost simple affections he felt when they were alone by the shores of the beach. Here, there are other people involved, and life with its collected cluster of wishes and dreams move forward, regardless of a person's order in life. And because they interweave, connect like rivers to the sea, the small and simple things are made big and complicated, it creates a storm, and sometimes it's even pushed aside.

So, even as he keeps it in his heart, Vanitas feels with his head. It's logic and reputation that stands with his judgment. And when they're together, he doesn't say it out loud.

\--

Vanitas wakes up the next day with a start.

He groans complainingly, knocks a few objects from his dresser that would probably wake Sora up in the next room, and gruffly sets his ringing phone on his ear. He'll hang up if it's not important, he tells himself.

"The weather's great, you should look outside. Your room's the window to the left, right?"

It's not important. Not really. But then he thinks of the man who tailed Sora's mom to their house a few years ago. So Vanitas repeats the sentence and carefully makes his way to his window. His hand reaches out for the curtains and cautiously pulls them aside.

"I'll scream if you're a stalker," he warns dangerously. The caller might not recognize the threat, but his neighbor is a cop — surly, fat, and a little too egoistical for his own good, but a cop nonetheless. Hank likes him.   

"You will? I never pegged you as the type." Vanitas finally sees the tuft of blonde hair and thinks this boy is worse than a stalker.

" _God_. What are you doing here?" _At 5 in the fucking morning_.

"Picking you up for some morning practice." Ventus looks up and watches him move behind his windows. He smiles a little and waves. Vanitas sticks a tongue out. "Hi. Morning. Want me to—"

"No." _Hell no._ "I'll change. Give me a minute."

It doesn't take him a minute, but he thinks Ventus could wait an added 10 or more for dropping by without notice. Sora's mom was cooking bacon and eggs — _classic_ — and she looks up when Vanitas storms down noisily from the stairs. She looks surprised, but Vanitas just shrugs; he doesn't know what to make of Ventus waiting outside the door. Maybe he'd feel better if he was the one waking a friend at an ungodly hour and picking them up. Or maybe he won't. But in a way, he's kind of flattered. 

"Is this gonna be a thing with you?" he asks moodily when he meets Ventus outside. The sun hasn't come out yet, which made him feel a little better.

"What will?"

"This."

"Maybe. Hey, let's go to Mickey's. I haven't eaten breakfast yet."

Vanitas mutters, but follows obligingly. Mickey's is barely occupied at 5-something in the morning, and Ventus ends up treating Vanitas to a sandwich after complaining about how early he had to wake up. It doesn't stop him from stealing a piece or two from Ventus' breakfast, but he hadn't put up much of a fight anyway.

"I read somewhere," Ventus blurts out mid-bite, "that the body releases stress hormones when it goes through negative emotions. And they stick in our system like garbage if we bottle them up — like toxic in the long run. So talking things out, it'll help detoxify our system."

"Where did you read that?"

"I think from wiki answers _._ "

"Wiki answers has been shit ever since they changed the format." Vanitas points out, stacking his fries into a barely steady house-box. Ventus picks one from the middle and eats it. The structure shakes but does not stumble.  

"Yeah, but I also asked Ienzo, and he said it's true." Vanitas doesn't believe that Ventus would ask Ienzo about something that insignificant, but it's Ventus. He never knows with him. "So, what's been bothering you?" And there it was. He kind of expected it. "You're never distracted."

"I'm not," he reaffirms, but Ventus looks at him pointedly. "I'm really not, so stop looking at me like that. You look stupid."

Ventus kicks him under the table. It doesn't hurt, but Vanitas kicks back. His foot catches between Ventus' and he leaves it there in petulance. "Okay, you're not. You're acting weird though."

"Drop it," Vanitas says, watching the doors behind Ventus open with a group of girls walking in. "If we're talking weird, you're pretty damn weird yourself. You think you're subtle? You space out a lot when no one's looking. Do you just forget that there're people around you?"

He realizes that it's bothering him more than he lets on. It's surprising. And though Ventus doesn't look upset that Vanitas points out his habit, that he even noticed in the first place, he looks at him guardedly. Vanitas wonders if there's something he's keeping from everyone else. "You should do something about that."

"Do you always have to be an ass?" is Ventus' sour response. His lips pull back in a slight frown, but he doesn't tense. Not noticeably. Vanitas is somewhat grateful for that because the silence that comes after is clean, and he doesn't have to worry about the surprise-morning-practice being awkward. Ventus acknowledged it, and Vanitas knows when not to push. They understand each other at least that much.

Vanitas starts picking on his food tower and sorted them on his tray. He forms letters in a neat line. And when he's done, he yawns, pushes it away, and stands up. "Let's go."

Ventus doesn't follow until he reaches the doors though. And when he catches up, the first thing he says is, "You wasted perfectly good fries."

But it's not really _perfectly_ good, just fairly unhealthy. And he didn't waste it, he thinks. If Ventus really thought that, he wouldn't look even the least bit lighthearted. So Vanitas guesses it wasn't so bad that he left it there if Ventus at least read it. Minnie might think it's weird though. The letters, they were completely accurate, but french fries aren't the best tools to write a message, so maybe he's lying. He wonders if she'll get it, like Ventus seems to do.

\--

"I didn't know you were good friends with Ven," his aunt starts conversationally. "When did it happen?"

Vanitas couldn't quite right his tie so he leaves it hanging when he steps out of the bathroom. Jun was kindly fixing his bed for him, and he helps her, pulling the sides of his sheets to straighten out the wrinkles.

"We're not _good_ friends," he answers crossly. He doesn’t tell her they’ve stopped fighting a long time ago, though. He's not really sure what they are anymore.

"He's waking you up every morning, isn't he? I think you're pretty good friends."

"Don't say it like that. You make it sound weird." Actually, it would sound weird however anyone puts it, considering their history. But Jun's smile is suggestive, which doesn't make sense. " _God,_ you don't think—"

"You two look comfortable with each other."

Vanitas groans and crouches beside his bed. He can't be that obvious, can he? "We’re not anything." He folds his hands on top of his mattress and stares at her blankly.

"But you want to be." _Jesus._ So he is obvious. Well, that's kind of pathetic. It doesn't mean he has to admit it to anyone other than himself though. So evasively, he says, "Not really."

Although Jun doesn't look the least bit deterred. She was persistent, and benignly thoughtful like Sora usually is, except she's more than a little less boyish about this. Not to mention intuitive as well. So she continues, insisting fondly, "You do. It's not very obvious if that's what you're thinking. You're just less angry about everything. I think it's nice. You've been letting him help you."

"Not by choice."

"Oh, come off it," she says, twisting his ear. He lets out a small cry of pain and shoves her hand away. "It's great that you feel that way, but you should stop hiding it. I bet you'd feel much lighter."

 "Woman," he growls. "I'm fine. So stop coddling me."

Jun made a sound that seemed awfully like a snort and stood to leave. She stops short on his door and waves for him to follow. "I made breakfast, so you should eat. Tell Ven to come in as well. It's rude to make him wait outside like that."

"Then you should've let him in," he retorts irately.

She scoffs. "Yeah, but he won't listen to me."

\--                                                           

When Vanitas sits at a corner table alone in Mickey's, he decides that he never wants to be that guy who waits 10 or more minutes for so-and-so person to arrive — not again, at least. Because he's not patient enough for something like that, and he doesn't deal well with crowds, no matter how small they were. Individuals, they were worse, stranger or non. 

There's a girl waiting for her order across the cash register, tall and graceful with blue eyes, who's been sneaking glances at him when she thinks he's not looking. Vanitas takes a long gulp from his pineapple juice, content to ignore her and the rest of Mickey's morning residences, and maybe hide behind the paper cup until Ventus joins him for breakfast as well. But it doesn't really work because the girl walks to his table when she gets her cheeseburger —  _(is that a double?)_ — and greets him politely with an upturned smile. He doesn't want to do the same, and he nearly bolts out of the restaurant when she pulls out the chair across him.

"That seat's taken," he rushes between his drink. If it's a little too sharp, he doesn't care.

His guest doesn't either, and she waves it off, like she thinks he's lying.

"I don't see anyone taking it anytime soon," she starts, friendly. "How hard would it be for you to act like you know me?"

"I'd say 11 out of 10 seeing that I don't know you," he responds, looking like he's actually thinking about it. He gives up on pretending to ignore her when she takes a bite of her burger and stares grumpily instead. "And that seat, it's actually taken. I'm waiting for someone."

"Mm. Ven, right? He likes to talk about it." Vanitas drops all pretense of knowing her as a complete stranger. "I don't even think he realizes it, but it's funny."

He bites the mouth of his cup to keep from shooting a retort on instinct. It's lost on him when he thinks of the reasons she'd find them amusing because, as far as he knew, they're not supposed to get along. So he deflects her comment to a topic that's safer, something that has less to do with him and Ventus.

"You dyed you hair," he notes, and okay, maybe appearances aren't the safest topics to talk about with girls but she takes the hint and bites.

"I wanted to try something new. High school never really allowed us to do that." She takes one glance at Vanitas' scrutinizing look and backtracks. "Don't get me wrong. High school gives you opportunities. But in college, you can do a lot more. It doesn't look bad, does it?" she asks, pulling at the ends of her hair.

Vanitas takes that as an invitation to stare at her, actually look at her for the first time after she graduated, and it's weird. Her hair is shorter, barely above her shoulders, and dyed as blue as her eyes. It softened her face and made her smile less childish, but also gentle and expressive. He wouldn't have noticed any of this if she hadn't asked, so he tells her, "It makes you look more mature." Which means it's probably okay, right?

She beams at him, and he thinks it's more than okay. Vanitas finally settles enough to re-place his cup back on the table, admitting that he knows the girl (who's more of a woman now) sitting across from him and eating a double cheeseburger for breakfast. You wouldn't think that so much can change in a year.

"You sound honest, it's nice. When did it happen?"

"I don't think it really happened."

He doesn't think that anyone knows when it happens either. It's like relationships. The changes are gradual, and the turning points are blurred by this.

"It did, though," she amends. Vanitas doesn't look at Aqua when she says this because it doesn't feel like she's talking to him, even if he knows that she probably is. "If this was, let's say two years ago, you would have called me ugly and started a fight, no questions asked. But it's easier to talk to you these days. Funny, I think Ven might actually be good for you." 

"He was annoying."

"You were a brat." And it probably says something that they use words that point to the past. "But seriously, what happened? I heard you were kicked off the team."

Vanitas takes a deep breath, or maybe he lets one out. He doesn't really know anymore because sometimes, when he thinks too much, it gets overcomplicated, then he'll get sad, mostly angry, and remember everything bad about the world. It doesn't happen when he's not alone in Mickey's; it doesn't happen often, really. But when it does, he kind of thinks of Ventus.

Sometimes, it makes him feel better; other times, it doesn't. 

"It's nothing important. I got distracted — everyone's making a big deal out of it. I don't know why you're asking."

"Distracted?" She sounds incredulous, like everyone else who's noticed. Vanitas thinks that's just great. "What happened? I can listen if it'd help?"

"Stop sounding like you're worried about me. I might think you actually care."

"You're not alone in the world, Vanitas. I thought Ven’s already told you off."

And Vanitas wants to laugh because they really are taking this out of proportions. Okay, so maybe he's got a little more to think about, so what? He fell in love with a guy that wouldn't leave his side, and it's driving him kind of crazy; everyone would feel the same. They'll be graduating high school soon, and he doesn't really know what he's doing in life; is that so bad? He has one more year to sort it all out.

He _only_ has one more year to sort everything out. 

He considers Aqua sitting in front of him, considers telling her about Ventus because it's always about Ventus. He considers that they're best friends, and that, to her, they're valued, priceless — a love triangle that has no disputes, a triad where Aqua is met with equal companionship — (always Terra, always _Ven)_. And, for a fleeting second, Vanitas thinks,

_I want to tell her._

It's impulsive, and if he was given a minute or two to think about it again, he doubtlessly would have reconsidered. But a second, that second, is all it takes for him to anxiously admit, "I like Ventus," out loud.

And… it actually feels a lot less liberating than he thought it would. Jun lied when she said he'd feel better; he's kind of freaking out.

_(Note to self: women are not always right; it's not sexist to ignore them.)_

Aqua looks at him like she already knew though, like his confession wasn't news. And he scowls because she doesn't _get it_.

"Aqua, no. I _like_ Ventus," he repeats, lowly, surely. "Like, maybe _like-_ like. Possibly bordering love-like. He's the most stupidly annoying person I know, but he's also persistent and kind of endearing and nice and so _real,_ I don't even _know._ " He shuts up and snarls, more to himself than to anyone else because, yeah, he just lost it. He absolutely lost it. Nobody who didn't have it bad was awful at making sense, unless they were diagnostically impaired. He wasn’t.  

"Oh. _Oh._ Wow _,_ " Aqua almost whispers, and it takes all of Vanitas not to just walk away. "You're serious. I didn't— since when?"

Vanitas doesn't know, but he thinks of salty waters and sun-burnt skin. The horizon, a boat, his skateboard, then farther back: before their first year in high school. Screaming, fighting, hiding in the dark, and then Ventus pushing him into the pool. Laugh. Sulk. Smile. "Does it matter?"

"Not particularly, but it would have been nice to know." Aqua's grinning like a lottery winner, and then it's just a whole new level of uncomfortable. "I can't believe it. I mean, I _can,_ but I didn't think you would ever admit to it—"

"Wait, what?"

"I don't know, but it's like one of those things you don't see happening, until it actually does, and then you realize that there really was no other development that _could_ happen, so it's not that surprising anymore. It's like you and Ven. Do you get it?"

"No." He doesn't think he wants to get it either.  

Aqua's smile lightens, and she's looking at her straw rather than Vanitas now, like she's maybe talking with herself. "It can be scary when you think about it, I guess. Is that what's been bothering you? Because if it is, telling Ven will take a load off your chest."

"I'm fine with keeping it to myself a little longer, thanks."

"Of course you are," she says gently, but her smile is almost bitter. "You'll be fine keeping it for a few weeks, the last few months before graduation even. You'll think it'd be fine if you hold out until the day of graduation, then college, post-grad maybe, and when you're out in the world working under old men with beards you'll still think: I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine."

Aqua takes a deep breath and lets it out, looking at him almost distantly. "You'll only realize something went wrong when you're grown and wrinkled drinking tea alone in your porch. But by then you won't be able to do anything more because people don't live that long. And you'll regret it."

Vanitas suddenly feels his temper flare, the urge to lash out clawing at his skin. If he thinks about it, it's a familiar feeling, subtle and less glaring, but familiar nonetheless. That's when Aqua looks away, and Vanitas gratefully does so as well. ' _When you're feeling overwhelmed or caught in the past, let the person you're talking to know,_ ' Ventus used to press. It helps that Aqua knows enough about him to understand.   

"Sorry. That was out of line," she apologizes. Vanitas realizes that he's never seen Aqua express so much, and he shakes his head.

"This isn't about me anymore, is it?"

"You could say that it's about everyone, can't you?" Aqua answers him contemplatively. "A lot of people experience a lot of things, and they're never the same, sure, but there are parallels. We all live, love, laugh and cry. It’s why people can connect. Wouldn't you understand regret the most, though, Vanitas?"

Rather than nodding to what they both already know, Vanitas says, "I think life's too short to live in regrets."

And Aqua bobs her head heartily in agreement. "Don’t hide it long enough to fester. Tell him. It doesn't have to be now, but tell him, okay? What do you know, maybe you'd finally have enough space in your head to focus on the simpler things, like swimming."

And wouldn't he just love that? Then again, if he's asked to reflect this instant, he might admit that maybe the silence has already festered, small and irate at the back of his head. Not that it should matter.

"Maybe one day," he says distantly. Aqua doesn't answer but her smile is hopeful.

Ventus joins them at half-past five, sheepish, bright, and pleasantly surprised. He slides easily beside Vanitas, and their knees bump and does not move. Vanitas sighs and closes his eyes, leaning back and dimly listening to the voices that flare in their table. Something lightly presses against his side, a little by the banks of his shoulder, and he presses back with the same amount of softness after.

Vanitas makes a promise then.    

\--

Ariel sits him at the bench a week later and tells him his time.

He sets his jaw and stares.

She gives him a smile.

"Your time could still use some work, but it's better. You look better." She shoots him a look. "I don't know what we could do under a week, but between you and Ven, I think you've got it. Keep your focus, Vanitas."        

Vanitas bites back a smile and nods determinedly. He's looking forward to it.                                                                                                        

\--                    

But, at the same time, he's not.

Today is finally the day of the competition, but instead of getting himself ready, he determinately walks in the opposite direction of their school.  

It's a quarter past four, and Vanitas is loosening the ugly red scarf around his shoulder when he sees the familiar two-story house. The cold is less biting than it had been for the past month - warm enough to leave windows wide open for air to circulate around a room. Vanitas pauses underneath one of these in a vague sense déjà vu and thinks about how Ventus had always loved the cold and the wind and the slightest sign it brings of the tempests when it isn't yet damaging.

Vanitas is watching the curtains sway gently to the slow rhythm of the breeze when the phone he held against his ear rings once, twice, then, subsequently four more times until finally a soft, warm light faintly glows from the window. He sneaks glances at the flickering light with some anticipation and wonders if Ventus felt the same during the mornings he'd picked him up.

When a boyish voice greets him with a barely coherent _'hello,'_ Vanitas feels relieved.

"Morning. The weather's lovely, you should come outside."

And absolutely nerve-wracked as well.

The line fills with inarticulate groans before he hears a throaty _'what?'_ and then, more loudly, "Vanitas? Why are you… it's… 4 in the morning. _Why?_ "

He opens his mouth, something obvious and sarcastic tipping edgily on the point of his tongue. But, instead, he repeats, "Come outside."

"Now _?_ Are you crazy?"

"Mental." He answers cheekily. "Come on, we don't have all morning."

Another groan that gets caught in the middle of a yawn. He taps a foot impatiently.

"The sun hasn't even come out yet. Can't this wait until later? Or tomorrow. I'll go with you wherever tomorrow, okay?"

Vanitas shakes his head stubbornly, taking a deep breath and saying, "Fine. I won't force you to come. But I'm going, alone if I have to. I…" Want this? Need this? Most likely both, he thinks.

"Don't be stupid. I’m not letting you go anywhere alone." Vanitas shrugs, rocking once on his heels, twice, then carefully he watches the shadows move obscurely around Ventus' room. "Give me a minute to change."

"Bring the stuff you'll need for the meet. We're heading to school straight after."

"What am I getting myself into," Ventus mutters, but doesn't say anything otherwise. Vanitas keeps quiet, reigning down his doubts and uncertainties until he sees Ventus coming out of the house with a small bag slung over his shoulder. Ventus stares oddly at the bulking packs Vanitas carried behind his back and promptly switches his light load with one of Vanitas' heavy ones. Vanitas lets him and doesn't ask why; he's resolute and eager and pulling a sleepy bundle of blue and yellow keenly to the only bus stop in their street.

Ventus allows him, confuse and a bit lost, but willing nonetheless.

"Captain will kill you if you don't make it to the meet in time," he comments lightly.  

"I know. We'll make it."

When the morning bus grinds despairingly to a creaking halt in front of them, they sat in a row between a sleeping old man settled in the very front and, later, a thickly dressed boy sporting headphones at the very back. Ventus doesn't fall asleep until after they pass three bus stops worth of verbal probing that never met a proper answer. Vanitas doesn't follow, doesn't even think he could sleep any more than the four hours he'd fit into last night. There’s an easy buzz that runs through his head making thinking painless in the dark.

It feels good, surprisingly, to simply ride the bus before the creep of dawn. They are almost alone, and it was easy to forget the rest of the world, even if he knows it’d be just for a little while. It’s a bit like running away, but knowing you have somewhere you could come back to.

It’s liberating. Vanitas feels invincible.

He quickly loses himself in the stories inside his head: about endless road trips, slow inducing music, first encounters, life-altering meetings, boys that live infinitely beyond the sea, _in the sea_. 

Vanitas doesn’t notice when the bus stops until it jostles him upright. Distantly, a streak of orange lined thinly over the horizon. It knocks him from his reveries, and there’s an odd sort of twist inside his stomach. He shakes Ventus who wakes up with a weird gargling sound and his spit covering a good patch of Vanitas’ bag. Vanitas’ mouth twists and he uses Ventus’ collar to roughly wipe the boy’s damp cheek.

“Where are we?” asks Ventus blearily.

“Fifty kilometers from civilization,” he replies.

“We’re not going to the island, are we?”

The driver tips his cap when they get off, and Vanitas politely nods back. The air is different at the edge of town, cooler on the seaside. He stretches as he starts walking forward, lips turning when Ventus scampers to follow.

“There’s no time. God, you can already smell the sea from here, can’t you?”

“You could. I think it smells like home.”

Vanitas agrees, (though he never thought would have he’d ever consider the islands as home.) They walk peacefully until the houses that lined the town lessened to vacant cottages and nipa huts. Then Vanitas shifts closer to Ventus, and he’s got his arm around the latter’s, tugging insistently over the row of trees that cut a path from the road to the dirt and sand. Ventus doesn’t say anything, but he makes faces.

They see a few stray dogs and cats, a snake on one of the trees and a lost crab somewhere near the shrubs. The land becomes steeper the longer they walk, and Vanitas’ steps become more brisk the closer they got to the sea. He is almost running when the trees give way to a horizon of blues and oranges and purples, a flock of white birds flapping close to the sky. _They_ seemed closer to the sky and Ventus quickly follows him, a flurry of travel bags and anticipation.

The wind greets them when they burst from the thicket, strong and powerful and _wonderful_ , and they are on top of a low cliff, high above the sea and near the clear, handsome sky. Dawn approaches and the sun colors the beach in a warm ethereal glow. Ventus draws a sharp breath beside him and Vanitas drops his arms to his side to breathe.

_(And he breathes – the sea and nature and chlorine that’s permanently etched on pool sunk skins)._

“It’s…”                                                                                                         

“Yeah.” And they didn’t need to say anything aside from that because the scene speaks for itself and words sometimes aren’t enough or even necessary. So they stand still below the panoramic canvas of a tropical sunrise, enjoying the same building sensation of serenity from that memorable summer. It was November, and the air was only going to get colder, but the shore still murmurs the same intangible treasures, the bond and peace and longing of something, nothing, _everything._

(Of only you.)

Vanitas’ chest tightens.

Ventus moves to the edge, scaring birds and swaying to the breaths of the wind. He turns back. Smiles. Waves. Vanitas thinks it’s all a little bit perfect.

\--

They set camp on ground, just by the edge of the cliff.  

Vanitas is kicking his shoes off and Ventus hangs his feet over the edge, swinging them as he leans back on his arms. They don’t worry about what comes in the near future. The moment - it was theirs alone. And the sight of Ventus caught with a small smile convinced Vanitas that he made the right choice, and he stupidly wants to keep it that way for however long he can.

“So, you planned this?” Ventus asks.

“I thought about it, yeah,” he answers distractedly. “Your friend harassed me.”

“My friend?”

“Aqua,” His shirt and trousers came next then Vanitas was dragging his feet to the edge, saying, “You should tell her not to nose in other people’s business.”

“You don’t really want that,” Ventus humors.

Vanitas waves him off, distracted from answering by the sea lapping below the cliffs. He crouches and takes a quick dive, submerging under the water and lessening the bite from autumn’s chills. When he pulls up, he’s grinning, and he sees that Ventus is dazed, lost in whatever world he is at once again.

“Aren’t you going to jump in?” he calls outs.

Vanitas is smug when Ventus visibly snaps out of his dreamy state. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

“Ever heard of skinny dipping?” It was meant as a joke, they rarely swam together after all. But Ventus is looking at him curiously, and then he’s got his hands over his shirt and was effectively pulling it off. Vanitas turns around when Ventus reaches for his pants and dives back under, holding his breath until he felt the strong ripples from another body disrupting the currents. Something grabs him around his waist, and it’s almost unconscious when his legs lock around the accompanied torso for balance and scuffles for a bit.

The sea pushes them back above the water, Vanitas shaking the droplets from his hair before looking down at the boy still partly submerged under the water. Amused, he asks, “Comfortable?”

They hadn’t let go, still loosely interlocked as to not drag each other down. Ventus smiles and shakes his head, disagreeing, but doesn’t move until Vanitas wiggles away to duck under the water a few more times.

That was… unsettling to say the least.

Vanitas paddles in circles for a bit, shaking off the feeling of Ventus’ skin against his. It’s probably his fault for inviting him to swim in the first place (and when was the last time he did that?), so he simply gives up when he realizes the craving barely lessens and drifts beside Ventus for the rest of the time, switching from watching the waves lapping on their overhang rock and the sun rising over the horizon.

Eventually, when the there was a good amount of light painted in the sky, he turns back to Ventus and they drag their sopping selves back to the top of the cliff, climbing a short, uneven path that takes them to the top in short time. Ventus had folded towels ready for them on top of their bags, and Vanitas takes one gratefully, rubbing himself dry before sitting closely beside his companion, searching for warmth.

Ventus shifts so he is looking at him wonderingly. “Has it helped?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“This trip- did you get what you came here for?”

“It’s… cleared my head, but I’m still working on it.”

Ventus smiles at him like he’s proud. It’s strangely charming.

“That’s okay, we’ve got time. By the way, you’ve got,” Ventus waves his hand. “stuff on your hair.”

Vanitas face scrunches. “Stuff?”

“Hold still, let me just—“

Ventus reaches out suddenly and runs long fingers over his head. It feels nice, and he doesn’t bother speculating what the mess in his hair was. His eyes close halfway, the gesture lulling him to a sort of calm. He doesn’t notice that he’s leaning into the touch until the petting stops behind his head, tangled with the hair that touches the nape of his neck. When he properly looks at Ventus, blue eyes are staring at him with interest, curiosity. Awareness.

_Oh._

Vanitas is caught, heart pounding uncomfortably loud in his chest. Deep breaths. There was something between them, he knows, that’s been unspoken, unpursued, but never was it so loud and glaring, so frighteningly clear until then. It makes him nervous, deep-down-scared (which he’ll vehemently deny later when asked). But Ventus doesn’t retreat. He doesn’t talk, break the heavy silence with an awkward joke or laugh. And this, it’s what most likely pushes him, the reason he leans close, whispers carefully, closely,

_“I’m going to kiss you.”_

Ventus closes his eyes.

So Vanitas does.

The first touch was unraveling. The wind blows strongly, caressing their skin and bringing with it waves of the sea crashing against the shore. The seagulls fly noisily towards the horizon, meeting the sun with lively calls. Little bugs crawl over the gritty sand and over the palm trees dancing wildly with the breeze. He knows this, aware that it’s all happening. But he’s blind. Deaf. Senseless of everything except for the press of lips and hand against his own.

The world slows down. It’s close but extremely light. Warm but trembling. Scattered but so full of life. They are kissing and the clogs in Vanitas’ mind had stopped its turns and clicks. He wants to smile but his mouth is preoccupied. And that’s fine, more than fine, really. There is something tender that bubbles inside his chest, and Vanitas thinks he can finally take on the tide.

\--

They’re on their way back to town, bus full, hands nevertheless intertwined, when Ventus quietly asks, “Are we dating now?”

It’s a good question considering they hadn’t talked about it before leaving the overhang. There was a lot of kissing and touching after, and the quiet, shy confessions of, _‘whys’_ and _‘I like yous’_ weren’t left unsaid. But their phones rang with a message from their captain reminding everyone to get their butts moving to school before they could really talk about what happens next.

So they packed unhurriedly, taking their time with pleasant (and teasing) conversations while gently bumping each other when they were too embarrassed to hold the other’s hand. Vanitas feels incredibly light – not so much physically, but breathing is so easy with the buoyant weight in his chest, with his mind feeling perfectly clear and untroubled, just like how it was when he was as a child first learning how to float.

“I’d like to think we are.”

Ventus hums, burying his face on Vanitas’ shoulder.

“That’s great. I’d like that too.”

Vanitas doesn’t think it could get any better, and it really couldn’t, he considers, if something weren’t still bothering him. He remembers the vacant looks, the ones Ventus gets when he’s distracted. Vanitas is doing better than before, for the most part, and he wonders, (silently wishes) if Ventus is doing the same.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” he starts, unsure.

Ventus hums in response, rubbing his head on Vanitas’ shoulder in agreement.                         

“Do you remember that time I called you out in Mickey’s?”

 A beat.

“…Yes.”

The tentative answer sort of bothers him.

“So, what’s wrong?”

Ventus squirms in his seat and lifts his head to look at Vanitas properly. Vanitas never thought to worry about what Ventus is thinking when he was distracted, but the look he gives him now is disconcerting.

“It’s nothing, really. Nothing important, anyway.”

“Stop being such a girl,” he retorts.

Ventus lips quirk, pointedly looking at their intertwined fingers like it would invalidate the slight against his supposed femininity. Vanitas sulks, tugging their hands closer to his lap.

“It’s been bothering me for a while. Like you’re not really with us.”

“Sometimes, I don’t feel like I am.”

“Hey…” Vanitas makes a face. He’s not quite sure what to make of that.

“Don’t take it the wrong way, it’s nothing bad,” Ventus follows carefully. “I just think a lot and, I don’t know, things just sort of hit me all at once sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”                                   

“It’s hard to explain.” Ventus diverts. Hesitates. Then, continues softly, “Haven’t you ever felt so overwhelmed by everything around you that you kind of start to ache? In places you didn’t even know you had inside? I mean, it’s not like that all the time. Sometimes, I just look at… look at everything I love, and wonder how it got to be so good.

Either way, I feel like I just need a minute or two to pull myself together. Because it gets a bit heavy, you know…”

Vanitas keeps quiet. He thinks it over, rolls the idea carefully inside his head. He grips Ventus’ hand tighter, bracing. “I won’t say that I understood everything, but…” he starts carefully. They can see the concrete buildings of their town now, peaceful, calm, but sort of intimidating as well. “Overwhelming’s a familiar feeling. Moving to a new town and having to upend your life was a pretty shit experience. So I get when you have to pause to think about things. I get it. I think most of everyone gets it.”

Vanitas hesitates, wishes he had the nerve to lift their knuckles to his lips and keep it there, whispering. He doesn’t think he can though, not yet at least. Instead, he leans closer, shoulder to shoulder, head tilted in a way he could lower his voice but keep it clear enough to hear, and says, “Just keep in mind, when you need a hand to keep you grounded to reality, I’m right here. You’ve got a goddamn line of people who’ll always be here. Don’t think you’ll be allowed to shut down so easily, capiche?”

Ventus looks at him, eyes wide. Then he smiles, holds Vanitas on the back of his neck and kisses him – short, warm and terribly sweet. When he pulls back, they’re still unbearably close, bright blue eyes warm and adoring.  “Capiche.” A thank you. And then, “Have I told you that I like you?”

Vanitas’ skin prickles. Pleasant, excited. He doesn’t think it would lessen any time soon, and he takes note to savor the way it can intoxicate him. He closes his eyes, breathes in the smell of the sea clinging to Ventus’ skin and answers, “You have.”

“Good,” Ventus replies. There’s a smile in his voice, surely. “Cause I really like you.”

“Yeah…” he whispers softly, “I really like you too,”

 

**Author's Note:**

> When the referee blows the whistle, Vanitas is the first to push off the starting block. He shoves himself underwater – kicks and swings his arms as rapidly as he can, each stroke setting a familiar rhythm in his figure that drove him along the surge of filtrated water. Almost everything becomes muted – the whispers of the pool and periodic intakes of air the only sounds penetrating his lobe. Hushed and subdued, complementing the gentle high that lapped the start of his dawn.
> 
> Then he flips, makes a turn, and kicks steadily against the water.
> 
> When his fingers touch the side of the pool, he comes up gasping. The crowd first catches his notice, loud and cheering unabashedly at the stands. There are voices he recognizes spattered amongst them, reassuring, and Vanitas takes a moment to gather himself. He breathes hard and fast, surprised that he was able to immerse himself severely in the competition. His limbs throb, body achingly heavy, but he is loose and exhilarated, content. He doesn’t think he’d felt like this for a long time.
> 
> He looks up, finally, and sees the blinking red from the scoreboard flashing his time.
> 
> He throws his head back, fist clenched. He can’t stop the massive grin even if he tried. His team roars at the benches, Ventus waving after him, beaming. He pulls himself out of the water, strides towards people that clasps his hand and gives him strong pats on the back. Tackles and hugs came from some of those closest to him and Ven looks at him like he’d maybe done something amazing. He really wanted to kiss him.
> 
> Vanitas thinks it’s really been long since he’d felt so impassioned and driven, since he thought the world was brilliant. He knows that sometime in the future, he’d probably get stuck in a rut again. Everyone does after all. But for now, he’ll do his best to keep this, savor the moments that will get him through the dumps and potholes of life. He’ll treasure the craze to do what he most wants to do so that when he’s at a standstill, he’ll remember that there’s something worth making an effort for. For whatever the future would bring, he wants to always be able to look back and think: he’s got a good life.
> 
>  
> 
> _(And he looks at everyone - his team, practically family really, and those gorgeous, shining blue eyes - and believes that yes, he does.)_


End file.
